The Arbor of Amitie wherin is comprised pleasant Pohems and pretie Poesies, set foorth by Thomas Howell |
The Louer to his L.
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The Arbor of Amitie | ||
The Louer to his L.
The fierie flames, that fast on me doe flowe,The secret sighes that wast my wofull brest:
The ysie colde I feele like flakes of snowe,
The hidden harmes that breede my great vnrest,
By fancies force doe cause such troublous tyde,
That ship now shakes which late in roade did ride.
The Arbor of Amitie | ||